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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23516473">Sun and Moon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaidenP/pseuds/MaidenP'>MaidenP</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Game of Thrones (TV), game of thrones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, F/M, Female Khal Drogo, Fluff and Smut, Male Daenerys Targaryen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:41:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,956</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23516473</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaidenP/pseuds/MaidenP</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Daenerys and Drogo, they will be gender switched. Drogo will be Droga and Daenerys will be Daeron and instead of Dothraki they will be an amazonian women tribe. This will be their lives together as they try to keep the love they never expected. This was originally a request from a reader but I really liked the idea for it. If it get's enough likes I will continue. Sorry I suck at summaries :P :D</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Khal Drogo/Daenerys Targaryen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Escape?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I do NOT own Game of thrones or it's characters </p>
<p>If you like the story please leave a review :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">Ser <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span> rides beside me and scopes out the terrain with his spyglass. The fields around us blow to the side with the force of the wind and I tilt my head back to gaze at the night sky, the stars twinkling as if agreeing with our plan. He hums softly to himself and clicks it shut. I open my eyes and look behind me to the smoke billowing from our encampment, <span class="hiddenSpellError">Viserys</span> <span class="hiddenGrammarError">will be enraged</span> when he finds out we abandoned them but I needed to get away. He is growing more belligerent by the day and his eyes have taken on a mad sheen. I pat my bag, making sure it's tied tight to my saddle and nod at Ser <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span>. He has been my one true companion during <span class="hiddenSpellError">Viserys's</span> madness and has explained that it seems <span class="hiddenGrammarError">to be</span> a quality to our bloodline. He told me the tale of the mad king and as much of my family history that he knew. I squeeze my filly's sides with my thighs and she moves into a fast paced trot. I stroke my fingers over Silver's thick pleated white mane and she <span class="hiddenSpellError">chuffs</span> in pleasure. When I picked her out <span class="hiddenSpellError">Viserys</span> sneered and chastised me, saying men need to ride stallions, not dainty <span class="hiddenSpellError">fillys</span>. Little did he know, my sweet Silver can best any horse in his horrific camp. I push my heels into her and she starts running, the bells in her mane striking together, creating a soft melody. Ser <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span> pushes his horse faster, trying to keep pace with us. I take one last look behind me and resolve to make it on my own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>....</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">We ride all night and into the early morning, putting miles of distance between us and <span class="hiddenSpellError">Viserys</span>. My body aches from riding for so long and my stomach grumbles. We had a meager snack before we left camp, not wanting our stomach's to become upset with the jostle of riding. Ser <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span> pokes at the fire, the dried meats we brought with us warming by the small flames. I unroll my bedding and sit down on the stuffed furs. My bottom aches and I reach around to rub at the sensitive area. Ser <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span> hands me a canteen and I drink the cool water quickly, my throat parched. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"Do you think they will find us?" I hesitate to ask, not wanting Ser <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span> to think I'm wavering in my decision to leave. He pokes the fire once more before scanning the fields around us, a hand shielding his eyes from the sun. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"I think not, as long as we hide our presence before we leave, and we don't stay in one spot for to long." I nod and take the meat he offers me, chewing the salty strip thoughtfully. He digs into his own meal, the tearing of meat the only sounds. After I finish my meal, I wipe my hands off and take a small swig of water. I press into my bedding and rub my tired eyes. Ser <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span> is sharpening his blade and nods at me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"Take a rest <span class="hiddenSpellError">princeling</span>, I will keep watch." Ser <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span> smiles briefly at me, his eyes warm. I've told him countless times to call me <span class="hiddenSpellError">Daeron</span> but he insists on keeping formal with my titles. I've told him I am prince of nothing but he only shakes his head and grows quiet. I roll over in my bedding and pull a strip of cloth over my eyes to block the sun. I keep one hand on the hilt of my sword and fade quickly to sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>....</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">A faint rustling pulls me from my nap and I push aside the cloth. The sun is setting over the plains and I rub the sleep from my eyes. I hear some more scuffling and my skin prickles. I grip the hilt of my sword and look over the tent <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span> must have set up. I think about calling out for him but decide against it, not wanting to give away my <span class="hiddenSuggestion">location</span>. I look over the material and I see <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah's</span> whetstone and his sword laying by the fire. The dirt is slightly disturbed by the log he was sitting on. A rustle sounds from behind me and I whirl quickly on the balls of my feet, swiping out my sword. A <span class="hiddenSuggestion">scantily clad</span> women shrieks and falls back, her hand grabbing the gash on her arm. She hisses at me and pushes away as another women advances. She swings a curved blade and I stumble backward, <span class="hiddenSpellError">barely</span> missing it as it cuts the air. I push away from the two women and I'm shoved to the side as I bring my blade up to meet the dagger thrown at me. I look over and see another women, this one with her blade to <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah's</span> throat. The three other woman surround me, hissing and spitting like wild <span class="hiddenSpellError">shadowcats</span>. Ser <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah's</span> hands are bound and a black eye is starting to blossom. His eyes urge me to run but I only dodge the blades aiming for me and swipe back when the women get to close. The woman holding <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span> snarls at me and speaks in a tongue unfamiliar to me. I study the women around me as I try to place them. They are all deeply tanned, as if they spend all their time outdoors and their thick hair <span class="hiddenGrammarError">is pleated</span> with feathers and other odds and ends. They are also very scantily dressed, some barely having strips to cover their breasts. The one holding <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span> has an ivory bone in a slip knot on the top of her head and gestures for me to drop my blade. She hisses angry words at me again and presses the blade harder against <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah's</span> throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"They are the Amazonian warrior tribe who follow the goddess of the wind. Their leader is telling you to drop your blade or she'll slit my throat." Resolve flits across <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah's</span> face and he stares me down, silently urging me to leave him behind. Fear twists like a rusty blade in my gut and my heart races. I smooth out my face, unwilling to show my unease to these wild women. <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span> continues to stare me down but I can't abandon him. He is no longer just my guard but has become a friend to me, a beacon of comfort in my dangerous and lonely life. I relax my stance and toss my sword to the dirt. The leader relaxes slightly, removing the point from <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah's</span> throat. The others surround me, pushing me to my knees and tying my hands in front of me. My silver hair is undone from my nap and it falls like a silk curtain around me, obscuring my sight. I move my neck, tossing the thick strands over my shoulder and glower at the women. The leader speaks to the others and they tie a long strip of rope to my hands and I watch as they do the same to <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span>, tying us together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"What are they saying?" <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span> watches the interaction and turns slightly to speak to me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"They are taking us to their encampment. Their <span class="hiddenSpellError">Chieftess</span> is there and will decide what to do with us." My stomach sinks and we sit in silence as we watch them take apart our camp, stealing our valuables and packing away our food and water. One of them moves to Silver and pokes her with her knife. I surge to my feet and snarl at them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"Don't touch her!" I <span class="hiddenGrammarError">can be</span> a <span class="hiddenSpellError">biddable</span> captive but I won't stand for them hurting Silver. The woman can't understand me but she must see something in my gaze. She moves away from Silver and spits at my feet. I sit back down beside <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span> and he <span class="hiddenSpellError">huffs</span> slightly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"I won't let them hurt Silver." <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span> nods, he more than anyone understands the loyalty and love I have for my sweet filly. I nursed her when she was but a babe, when her mother gave up on her. I've watched her grow into the brave, strong girl she is. The sun has fully set, the stars twinkling above us, when the women pull us to our feet. They bury the remnants of our fire, hiding our site and tie the rope to their horses. They pull us behind them as we set off to their encampment. I look over my shoulder to make sure Silver isn't left and she trots dutifully behind me, the soft thud of her hooves comforting. I turn ahead and walk quietly beside <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>....</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">After hours of walking, only stopping for briefs intervals to relieve myself and eat, we arrive at their encampment. Smoke billows from a huge fire pit in the center and tents stand tall around it. I spot more women, they stand by stalls and tents, most sharpening weapons or training while some nurse babes. I notice men mingle with the women, their chests bared, save for different colored paints. They turn to stare as we <span class="hiddenGrammarError">are paraded</span> into camp and pulled to where a large group sits by the fire. The group roars with laughter and the ground trembles beneath my feet as others dance around us. The festivities stop and all eyes turn to us as the crows splits and we <span class="hiddenGrammarError">are led</span> to the front. A tall women sits in the center, her thick hair in a long braid down her front. She turns toward us and my heart skips a beat. Her face is sharp, her eyes narrow. They shine with a fierceness I've never seen in a woman before and look brown in the faint light from the fires. She has a jagged scar down one side of her face and her lips are plump and pink. Her body is lean but strong, her muscles on display from the <span class="hiddenSpellError">bralette</span> covering her breasts and the leggings that <span class="hiddenGrammarError">are molded</span> to her shapely legs. She wears thick sandals on her feet and even those look arousing. I trail my gaze back up her body, lingering on the plump curve of her breasts, before moving up her delicate looking throat. I can almost feel how smooth it would be under my tongue. I look up at her eyes and gasp. She stares at me, her eyes bright with what looks like hunger. Her tongue darts out and licks her plush lips and I <span class="hiddenSpellError">groan</span> quietly, my cock growing hard underneath my leathers. She straightens to her feet and glides to stand in front of us. She is even taller than I originally thought, towering slightly over my six feet. She moves so gracefully despite her size. Her skin glows in the firelight and my hands itch to touch the glistening curves. The leader who brought us here speaks quietly to her and she frowns. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"No language?" Her voice is like silky smoke. It's deep but breathy and I could easily lose myself in it. <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span> frowns and moves forward, the women surrounding us, hissing and pointing their weapons at him. He holds up his bound hands, in a placating way. He speaks in their language and the <span class="hiddenSpellError">Chieftess</span> folds her arms. She looks to the stars as if for guidance and nods her head. She snaps her fingers and speaks quickly to her guards. She catches my eyes and grins fiercely at me, reveling straight white teeth. I'm pulled away from the tantalizing sight of the <span class="hiddenSpellError">Chieftess</span> and we're pushed into a tent. A woman cuts our ties and I rub the area around my wrists, trying to soothe the irritated skin. Once we're alone I turn towards <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"What's going on?" <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span> is quiet for a moment before looking at me. Sympathy fills his eyes and he takes a deep breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"The <span class="hiddenSpellError">Chieftess</span> has taken a liking to you." <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span> shakes his head and rubs his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"She is convening with the elders and come morning, she will most likely claim you." I <span class="hiddenGrammarError">must be</span> missing something. Claim me? <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span> must see my confusion because he pats my back in a comforting gesture. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"It means she plans to keep you." Keep me? Understanding dawns on me and I sag against the wall. Have I escaped one prison only <span class="hiddenGrammarError">to be</span> taken to another? </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Feast</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Daeron (Daenerys) has been claimed by Droga (Drogo) what happens next?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I do NOT own Game of thrones or it's characters </p>
<p>If you like the story please leave a review :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">We spend the night held captive in a tent, the entrance guarded by two very strong-looking women who exude don't fuck with us vibes. They slide us pieces of bread with butter and some sweet-smelling milk. <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span> said it's fermented horse milk. I resist the urge to gag but when I sip the thick liquid it tastes like honey and some underlying layer of smoothness. <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span> watches me <span class="hiddenSpellError">pleat</span> my hair, twisting and twirling the thick locks into a long braid with smaller strands framing my face. I dress in my cleanest clothes and make sure to wash my face and arms until my skin shines. I tell <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span> I'm only doing this to make sure she'll want to keep us alive but I would be lying if I secretly didn't want her <span class="hiddenGrammarError">to be</span> pleased with how I look. I can't explain the connection I feel with her but I can't stop thinking about her, her eyes, her smile, the way her voice covered me like a protective cloak. I look over my reflection in the mirror that was in my pouch and frown. My violet eyes are bright but I need something to make them stand out, they are after all my most mesmerizing assets. At least that's what those women of coin said when they tried to take my virginity. <span class="hiddenSpellError">Viserys</span> said it would toughen me up but I spent the time talking to them, asking them questions about their lives and interests. They <span class="hiddenGrammarError">were confused</span> at first but eagerly jumped at the chance to just talk. They were very kind and didn't even tell <span class="hiddenSpellError">Viserys</span> I left their brothel still a virgin. I line my eyes with kohl and blink to keep the moisture from smearing it. I turn my chin scrutinizing my face, my nose is small with a slight curve and my cheekbones are high and aristocratic. My lips are slim but a flattering pink, my skin the color of pale cream. I straighten my vest and pinch the skin at my waist. I'm not the most bulky of men but my body is trim with a soft underlying of muscle. <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span> paces back and forth but stops short when he see's me. He blinks and lunges forward to grab my shoulders. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I can't let you go out there my prince. I'll think of a distraction and you run." Concern shines in his dark eyes and I smile softly. I clasp his shoulder and push him softly away. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"I will talk to this <span class="hiddenSpellError">Chieftess</span>, explain our situation. Have faith my friend." <span class="hiddenSpellError">Jorah</span> frowns and scrubs a hand down his face. He nods and steps away. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"You are a bonny lad. If anyone can smooth talk her it would be you." All the women <span class="hiddenSpellError">we've</span> met have been smitten with my kind demeanor and my many questions. I've always been fascinated to know more about people and where they've come from. A harsh rap sounds at the tent flap and it's shoved aside. The woman who captured us beckons me forward and I follow her out of the tent. She leads me through the camp. I notice women have gathered, their faces curious. Men stand close by, babes strapped to their chests. I've never seen a village where men are the caretakers of babes but I'm starting to realize there is a lot I don't know about these people. She pushes me forward and I stumble slightly. The <span class="hiddenSpellError">Chieftess</span> frowns at the women and she bows her head. The <span class="hiddenSpellError">Chieftess</span> sits tall on her throne of wood. A smaller more delicate looking girl sits next to her. She perks up when she see's me and smiles brightly. She is different then the other women of the tribe, her skin pale and her hair the color of corn silk. She says something to the <span class="hiddenSpellError">Chieftess</span> and bounds over to me. She is short, barely reaching my chin. She grabs my hand and pulls me towards the <span class="hiddenSpellError">Chieftess</span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Welcome to the tribe of wind! I'm Amaya." I let her tug my arm as she chatters. She turns to smile at me and I notice that her right eye is white, a faint scar sloping from her eyelid to the center of her cheek. It takes me a moment to realize she's speaking my language. I look at her curiously and she giggles. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"I'll explain later, now you <span class="hiddenGrammarError">have an audience</span> with <span class="hiddenSpellError">Droga</span>." Her small hands grip my bicep and pulls me in front of the <span class="hiddenSpellError">Chieftess</span>. She bows slightly and jumps back up to her spot beside her. She winks at me and clasps her hands in her lap. The <span class="hiddenSpellError">Chieftess</span> motions me forward and I walk slowly to stand in front of her. Her face is a mask of indifference as she assesses me. I stand tall, unwilling to show any weakness. She eyes me appreciatively and nods once. She spreads out her hands and smirks at me. She speaks garbled, twisting words and I look to Amaya.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"She welcomes you to the tribe of wind, brother. Her name is <span class="hiddenSpellError">Droga</span>." Amaya looks to <span class="hiddenSpellError">Droga</span> as she gestures once more. I try to follow what I can but I'm clueless to their conversation. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"She has staked a claim to you. Welcome to the family." Amaya grins at me and jumps down to throw her arms around me. She squeezes me tight with her thin arms and I'm surprised by her strength. She pats my back and releases me. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"Staked a claim? I'm not some object for her to take." Amaya's smile doesn't falter as she looks at <span class="hiddenSpellError">Droga</span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It's our custom to take what we want, when we want it." She grins up at me. I want to protest but snap my mouth shut at the look in her eyes. I nod once and she pats my back. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"What is your name?" I look at <span class="hiddenSpellError">Droga</span> and she watches us with an almost soft expression. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"<span class="hiddenSpellError">Daeron</span> <span class="hiddenSpellError">Targaryen</span>." I expect for my name to cause some sort of reaction but she merely nods and turns to tell <span class="hiddenSpellError">Droga</span> my name. The <span class="hiddenSpellError">Chieftess</span> nods and give Amaya a command. I <span class="hiddenGrammarError">may not be</span> able to understand the words but I recognize the force behind them. Amaya nods and pushes me away from the council. I take one last look behind me and <span class="hiddenSpellError">Droga</span> grins at me, baring her teeth in a fierce gesture. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>...</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">Amaya pulls decorative leathers and hand crafted vests from a trunk and holds them up to me. She <span class="hiddenSpellError">tsks</span> and tosses them aside, pulling up an open vest with twisting sun and stars etched into it. She hums in approval and lays it aside. Next she pulls feathers from a smaller box. The colors glint in the firelight and she moves to stand behind me. She pulls my hair free from the braid and weaves the feathers through my thick hair. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"How do you speak my language?" Amaya's nimble fingers make quick work of my hair. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"I was not born to the tribe of wind. <span class="hiddenSpellError">Droga</span> found me when I was ten. I was badly beaten, near death, and she brought me here and adopted me into her family." She still looks so small. I hesitate to ask her age, having heard women are sensitive to that type of questioning.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"How old are you now?" Amaya moves to unbutton my vest and I quickly push her hands away. She giggles at my expression and hands me the open cut leather vest. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm almost seventeen moons. Go change. I will tell my tale, but be warned it is not a happy one." I move behind a privacy screen and shrug off my cotton vest. It falls to the floor with a soft thump and I stare down at it. In a way it feels as if I'm shedding my old life. I pull the leather vest over my arms and the supple smooth skin of it glides over my flesh. I pull the leather trousers up my legs and admire the needlework. I run my fingers over the etched sun and stars and marvel at the craftsmanship. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"I was born in <span class="hiddenSpellError">Essos</span> to a wealthy family. One night I <span class="hiddenGrammarError">was taken</span> captive while we were on expedition to the grasslands." I push aside the privacy screen and she holds up a jar of paint. It's a glossy teal color and I squint as she stirs it with her fingers. It's the same shade <span class="hiddenSpellError">Droga</span> had on her chest and arms. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"My father refused to pay, my stepmother hated me." She shrugs and moves her fingers to my face. She streaks the paint down one side of my face, tracing swirling patterns. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"When the bandits found out, they raped me, tried their best to break me. When they found out they couldn't, they beat me, nearly to death and left me there." She trails the paint down my arms and I look down at her. She avoids my eyes, her face unreadable. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"One of them punctured my eye and left me bleeding out. After a few days of laying in the dirt wishing for death, <span class="hiddenSpellError">Droga</span> found me. She took me in and gave me a family." Her smile returns, bright and cheerful. Rage burns in my stomach and I want to track down the bastards who hurt her and make them pray for death. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"<span class="hiddenSpellError">Droga</span> hunted them all down, one by one and tortured them for what they did to me." She grins, her honey colored eye glittering joyfully. She moves her fingers down my bare chest, drawing spiralling sun and stars with a colored in moon in the middle. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Why are you painting me?" Amaya finishes her art work and wipes her hands off on a strip of cloth. She steps back to admire her work and grins at me. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"I designed you with <span class="hiddenSpellError">Droga's</span> colors and the markings of her claim." She hands me leather boots and I step in them. She laces up the complicated ties and steps back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Why?" Amaya straightens my vest and taps her chin in thought. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"Do you have anything to wear around your neck?" I nod and move to my pack. I pull out my most valuable possession. I unfurl the cloth protecting it and smile. My mothers dragon fang necklace, said <span class="hiddenGrammarError">to be</span> passed down through the <span class="hiddenSpellError">Targaryen</span> line, made from real dragon teeth. Two fangs <span class="hiddenGrammarError">are connected</span> by a <span class="hiddenSpellError">Valyrian</span> steel chain and I slide it over my head. My mother left it to me and I made sure never to tell <span class="hiddenSpellError">Viserys</span> about it. Amaya <span class="hiddenSpellError">clucks</span> her tongue in approval and clasps her hands together. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"Tonight is your claiming feast. <span class="hiddenSpellError">Droga</span> will show the entire village that you belong to her." Amaya moves to the tent flap and holds it open for me. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Belong?" Amaya nods and motions me forward. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="mceItemHidden">"Yes. You are the new Chief of our village and <span class="hiddenSpellError">Droga's</span> husband." I feel faint and have to grip the pole to steady myself. Amaya loops a thin arm around my waist and smiles apologetically at me. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I know this is a lot to take in. After tonight I'll help you get settled in. After all you are<span class="mceItemHidden"> my new brother." I take a deep breath and follow Amaya out of the tent. I square my shoulders and stroll confidently to the fire. If I'm <span class="hiddenGrammarError">to be</span> the new Chief, I need to show these people no weakness. </span></p>
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